


Luck

by Inkphantom



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkphantom/pseuds/Inkphantom
Summary: Tesara Mitzo was a foundling, once. Then she was a slave. Now she is the Mandalorian's temporary partner. (Chapter 1&2 have been revised. I made some serious edits, nearly doubled the word count)
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Tesari Mitzo exited the luxury cruiser onto the grey tarmak of the Nevarro shipyard. The sun was incredibly bright, washing out the landscape in stark white light. Aside from the cloudless blue sky, everything in her sight was grey, from the landscape to the industrial buildings the lead deeper into the outpost. Individuals of various species, most she’d never seen in her life, hustled through the area as they went about their business. Even droids had found a home in this dusty place. 

“You need an escort to guild headquarters, my lady?” A voice asked to her left. Tesari turned to regard the rougeish man she’d hired. He wore mercenary leathers, but they were polished and oiled, just like his hair. He was young, arrogant, and obsessed with appearances. If his overly-neat grooming didn’t tip you off to his demeanor, the way he snapped at the ship attendants to begin washing his impractical cruiser would. 

“I assume that’ll cost me extra, Pretty Boy?” She asked. He’d already drained her purse more than she wished. Tesari needed the money for what was coming. The dapper captain just shot her a slimy grin. He took the nickname as a compliment. 

“A place like Nevarro can be pretty scary to a well-of lady like yourself,” he said. It was a nice way to say rich people got robbed here. 

“I can handle myself,” she assured, brushing off his amused smile. “You’ve sent my things ahead, yes? And can I assume Greef Karga is expecting me?”

“Don’t worry,miss. All your pretty dresses and jewelry are settled into the best inn Nevarro has to offer. The droid that unloaded your things will escort you to the appropriate cantina.”

Tesari rolled her eyes at his tone. She was quite over his condescending attitude. He couldn’t begin to understand the value of what she carried, tucked in those “pretty dresses.” 

“Then I suppose an escort really isn’t necessary, is it? Let’s settle up, before I develop a tan out here.” His eyes flashed down to her breasts, where he knew her credit pouch hung. Well, under her breasts really, strapped to her sternum under the folds of her expensive silk blouse. She didn’t have the luxury of belts or leathers, ironically. 

Tesari dug out four thin gold coins and tossed them to the captain.   
“Druggats, eh? That’s good spend. You sure I can’t help you with that top secret job?”

“No, you can’t. I’m looking for someone very specific.”

He scoffed. “Right. A Mandalorian. Good luck with that, lady.”

Tesari didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant before he turned his back on her and began barking at the droids who’d missed a speck of dirt. She shrugged and started toward the center of town, figuring she’d soon find out what he meant. 

—

The cantina surged with activity, more movement than Tesari would have expected given the location. As far as she remembered, Nevarro was former Imperial territory. The Empire hadn't been gone long, but the volcanic planet lacked any trace of their control, and free peoples of all kinds seemed to flow through the small cantina. 

Of course, they were probably here for the same reason as Tesari. As she scanned the stone tables and unfamiliar faces, her eyes finally fell on her target. Yes, based on the crowd of individuals around him, the guild was very much in business on Nevarro. The droid at her side chirped excitedly, indicating they’d finished their business. Tesari leaned down and placed a copper coin on his head before standing up and facing the crowd. 

Swallowing back anxiety, Teasari stalked over to Greef Karga, looking down her nose at those who eyed her approach wearily. She could feel their gaze analyze her fine garments and golden jewelry. Just as she predicted, the getup stole the attention of Greef Karga, bounty hunter guild master. 

“My lady,” he exclaimed as Tesari strolled up to his table. He and his compatriots eyed the jewels decorating her fingers. Though they were weighty and useless, Tesari knew their value in appearance. “I was told of your beauty, but words simply couldn’t do you justice. Please, allow me to buy you a drink.” The few who crowded around him grunted in protest at her interruption, but he waved them away, gesturing for Tesari to sit. She bunched her colorful skirts between her fingers and sat across from the guild master, flashing him a pearly white smile, something she was sure he rarely saw in these parts. 

He responded eagerly, waving down a waitdroid and ordering the most expensive wine on the menu. He knew by her approach that she had a job, he knew by her appearance that she had money, and, if he was lucky, she had friends with the same deep pockets. 

“I hear you come with a job, Miss…”

“Tesari. Tesari Mitzo. And you are correct, I am very desperate for the services of the guild.” She could practically see the credits dancing in his eyes. 

“A bounty, my dear?”

She shook her head. “A more difficult task, but generously compensated, I assure you.” He waved for her to continue. She took a deep swig of the newly arrived wine before she continued. Yes, expensive indeed. 

“I hear you have a Mandalorian in your company. I mean to hire him, and him alone.” Greef sat back in surprise. “A decent cut for the guild, of course, but I have special need for the skills of a Mandalorian.” 

“What kind of cut?” Ah, the flattery was over. Business then. 

“Four thousand druggats, and a large sum of Beskar for the Mandalorian. With that kind of payment I expect you to supply the warrior with all he needs to complete the job.” Greef’s eyes were bugging out of his sockets, and she could practically see the calculations running through his mind. But as she expected, a shadow of doubt washed over his features. 

“A generous offer. I assume it will be a tough job. Tell me.”

She did. “There is an item I need, and it is currently in possession of a slaver on Apollo IV. That item must be returned to me at all costs.” 

“I’ve never heard of Apollo IV,” Greef stated bluntly. 

“You wouldn’t have. It’s a small moon in the Outer Rim. Quaint, but for the warlord that once worked for the Empire. Despite the fall of his overlords, the slaving bastard has somehow managed to gain more power than ever. He has quite the fortress now.”

“Sounds like a job for more than just one man,” Greef commented. Tesari wanted to mention that a Mandalorian wasn’t just any man, but refrained and continued.  
“With the Empire and it’s support gone, the place is held mostly by slave guards. They are untrained and afraid.”

“Fear is a strong motivator.”

Tesari couldn’t agree more. “That is why there is a second part to this request. I also require the death of the slave overlord. When he and those that are loyal to him are gone, the slaves will run. Kill a dozen to save hundreds.”

Greef nodded, understanding the plan. “What is the target's name?”  
Tesari opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry and she found herself coughing roughly. She downed the entire mug of wine, refusing to acknowledge the goosebumps that rose on her flesh in anticipation of the name she was about to speak. 

“Mikels Maad,” she finally got out, hating herself for the fear that seemed to course through her blood. Greef took a puck out of his belt and began inputting the chain code she recited from memory. After a moment, a brief image of a middle aged man with sandy blonde hair and menacing eyes projected onto the table. Tesari looked away quickly before the guild master could see disgust on her face, adding, “One more thing: I have to come along.”

He completed the bounty puck and tucked it away. “It sounds straightforward enough,” he stated. “But why would you need to tag along? I could set you up in a fine room here at the cantina to await the Mandalorian’s return.”

Taseri shook her head, expecting this. “No, I must be present to identify the item. It will be hidden, disguised. I cannot risk losing it again. The slaver’s death means little to me, only a means to an end. That item is why I’m paying you more than you’ve earned this entire cycle.” He gave her a weary look but she stood her ground. This was not a bounty, nor a retrieval. It was an escort. 

Finally, Greef sighed. “I don’t know if he’ll go for it. Mando tends to work alone.”

Indeed? Her mind wandered to him, the Mandalorian she hadn’t met, to the rumors she’d heard about Nevarro. Greef’s words stirred curiosity. What was he like, this Mandalorian? Were there others, hidden about? Taseri bit her lip, wondering if he was anything like the one she remembered. Like him...

She stood abruptly, shaking the thought from her mind. “I’m sure you can convince him. You know the value of Beskar to his kind. Now, if you don’t mind, I have other things to attend to. When the Mandalorian arrives, send him to me and I will deliver a down payment. When we return, the rest of the druggats are yours.”

“And the Beskar?”

“The Mandalorian will have his Beskar. That is the way.”

—-

Boo-whoop? The droid asked, attempting to peek inside her room at the “best inn Nevarro had to offer.” It was drab, at best, boasting cleanliness more than anything else. She expected that was the work of her new little friend here, a CD-22 droid meant to, essentially, be her personal concierge. Apparently his services were included with the overpriced room, so that extra tip she gave him earlier had endeared her to him.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t come in. Maybe another time.” The droid whistled lowly before sliding down the hall. 

All of her belongings were still packed away in her luggage, secure behind a coded lock. She didn’t hesitate to open it, desperate to make sure her prize was still hidden. Tesari threw her dresses and jewels on the floor, and only when the room was littered with multi-colored silk and shimmering gems did she find what she was looking for. A piece of red metal glimmered at her. Tesari removed it gingerly, examining it from all angles for signs of wear from travel. She found no damage, only shiny, untarnished Beskar.

It was round and angled. A pauldron. Huge, made to fit a man incredibly broad. Tesari pressed the metal to her chest, cherishing its cold touch on her skin. The Beskar had a distinct scent, something she would never forget, and that metallic smell of forged steel had her swimming through painful memories. She didn’t cry, simply clutched the scarlet metal in sorrow until the bright sun began to set on Nevarro. Leaving the room a mess, Tesari climbed into the large bed and continued clutching the Beskar until she fell into a fitful sleep.

—

Days passed uneventfully, and soon Tesari grew bored. She’d hidden away the Beskar and in the safe provided by the inn. She ordered the CD-22 to prevent anyone but herself from opening the safe. He’d responded by bringing one of his limbs to his dome in an awkward salute and that made her giggle. As she requested, he’d brought her more appropriate clothes which she wore as she explored the outpost. Her black hair was now unbraided and free of ornaments, simply tied in a tight bun atop her head. Greef Karga hardly recognized her when she joined him at the cantina a week after their meeting, asking after the best arms dealer in town. He continued looking at her in astonishment, even as she left the bar with a housekeeping droid in tow, set on procuring a pair of expensive blasters. 

The arms dealer sold her a belt with two thigh holsters and twin blasters, each equipped with state of the art targeting modules and plated grips. The Nautolan behind the counter had scoffed at her choice, but quickly changed his tune when she started flashing real cash. Just as she was about to exit the shop, a pair of shiny mounted axes caught her eye. Having a melee weapon never hurt. 

“Those is magnetic return axes. They come with bracelets. When activated, the hatchets come back to the bracelets. Bought ‘em off a hunter that was missin’ most his fingers.” 

Of course, Tesari took them. 

—

Day after day she would dawn her leathers, train, then venture forth to explore the planet while she awaited her Mandalorian caller. She always returned at dusk, checking the shipyard for signs of the Old Republic ship Greef informed her about. Tesari was eager, returning hopeful to find the Razor Crest, but each evening she was disappointed. When she visited Greef, which was quite often, he shrugged and said the Mandalorian would return in his own time, regardless of the urgency of his message. By now he had grown tired of her nagging, and if not for the reveal of her pouch of druggats, would have begun to ignore her altogether. 

Tesari knew her refined act was up. After a month her wallet began to look a little thin, so she summoned the guild master and requested he find a buyer for her jewels and dresses. Her closet was now full of leathers instead of silk, and she was glad to be rid of the articles that never truly belonged to her. Her new axes hung from her belt next to her blasters. It only took Tesari a few days to injure herself, basically tearing open her palm and frantically looking for the nearest hospital. She now wore padded gloves to minimize the risk of losing a finger, if not a whole hand. 

The weeks bled together with no sign of the mission beginning. With the loss of her noble look, a few cantina regulars tried to make friends with her, and a few more tried to sleep with her, but Tesari dismissed the bounty hunters with cool airs. At this point she recognized a few, particularly the ones who tried to sway her into giving them the job they knew she was waiting on. Even Captain Pretty Boy had returned to Nevarro and tried to persuade her into a drink now and then. But there was no point in getting comfortable. The Mandalorian would be here soon and she would finally retrieve what she had lost. 

Soon was not soon enough, however, and an approximation of summer began on Navarro. The days were so hot she thought she would burn alive, and Tesari grew immensely impatient. One morning, after an excruciating training section that she couldn’t justify skipping, Tesari barreled into the cantina, determined to give Greef Karga a piece of her mind. 

A few heads turned at her noisy entrance, only to see her frozen in place, staring at the guild master’s table. Across from him, dawning a shimmering helmet, sat the Mandolorian. Tesari looked him over curiously, desperate to learn something, anything, about the masked hunter. Her eyes were drawn back to the helmet over and over, its shine sending her mind reeling, bringing back memories she had packed away after her first night on Nevarro. 

“Ah!” Greef Karga exclaimed happily. He beckoned her over. “Speak of the devil and she shall appear! Your client arrives, Mando.”

The helmet turned toward her and she sucked in a sharp breath at the opaque t-shaped visor. It was nothing and everything like the one she remembered. As she walked forward to the table and slid in next to Greef, she felt her mouth flap open and closed, unable to form coherent words as he watched her. Finally, she squeaked out an awkward, “Hello!”

Greef, the traitor, guffawed at her awkwardness. “My, my Mando! You’ve left the poor girl speechless. I’m honestly surprised, seeing as how she hasn’t stopped yapping into my ear about you since she arrived!” Tesari shot him a dirty look. Though his teasing brought a blush across her recently tanned skin, it managed to snap her out of her awestruck manner. 

“Have you explained the job to him?” she asked, desperate to stay professional. Greef nodded. Tesari turned to the Mandolorian, ignoring the churning in her gut. “Well?”

It was his turn to check her out, and though her assessment of the Mandolorian yielded little, she felt like she was an open book before him. Her dark hair was braided and coiled at the back of her head, a royal look, but was caked in dust from her morning workout. Her skin was tanned, bordering on burned from her time in the Navarro sun. Though she’d arrived thin and prettied, her time eating cantina food and flinging axesaround had filled out her shape a bit more. However, Tesari was still short and lean and clearly not a warrior. 

“The girl stays,” the Madalorian finally said. Ah, that was how it was then. Even with his voice modulated by the helmet, Tesari could hear the dismissal. He turned back to Greef and it was like she was no longer there. What a fool. 

“I offer a full suit of Beskar, from a Mandolorian much larger than yourself. Enough to reforge into your own armor, and have more yet for the foundlings.” The visor snapped back to her face, and she was trapped in his invisible gaze. She could practically feel his eyes boring into her own, but she stood her ground, knowing this was the only way to convince him. 

“What Mandalorian.” The question sounded almost like a statement and Tesari discovered she hated the sound of his stupid modulator and was glad he never used one. 

“I don’t know,” she lied expertly. “What I do know is that Maad stripped it from a dead Mandalorian during his time with the Empire. He has it on display with the item I wish to retrieve. They are locked away, but I know how to get to them. The item belongs with me, and the Beskar belongs back in the hands of your people. Either I go, or there is no job.” Greef sat up at this, ready to mediate. Before he could speak, the Mandolorian slid out of the booth. “Fine,” he stated petulantly and Tesari felt her heart drop before he grabbed the puck off of the table and gestured toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

“N-now?” She stuttered.

“Now.”

Tesari clambered to her feet and muttered something about retrieving her bag before taking off out the cantina doors, leaving Greef and the Mandolorian to watch her flee. 

“What’s her deal?” Mando asked, cutting straight to the point. Greef sighed and shrugged. 

“Came in here flaunting some real wealth, but replaced it all with blasters, axes, and dirt. Couldn’t get rid of her cash fast enough, practically throwing it away. Based on her impatience, I’d say the job is personal. Still, she’s got spunk. See her training out back every morning. Not too bad with those axes if you can believe it. She’ll probably be less of a hassle than you think. Not to mention, she’s pretty.”

By now she was reentering the cantina, a duffle bag strapped to her bag and two blasters holstered on each thigh. A droid followed after her, beeping frantically. She stopped to pat it affectionately on the head, murmuring words of reassurance until the droid’s shrill whistling became affectionate chirps. 

“We’ll see,” Mando said coldly, before turning his back on the guild master, shrugging past her, and strutting out of the cantina. Tesari looked alarmed, but found her senses and tossed the guild master a pouch of druggats before following the Mandalorian out. Greef sighed and slid the pouch into his pocket, glad to finally have the money and her out of his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much Arannawen and yumiicecream for your comments, I hope to continue!

“W-wait,” Tesari called, struggling to keep up with Mandalorian’s wide gait. Stubborn and silent, he continued across the shipyard. She noticed the Razor Crest sitting in the furthest hangar, just as Greef described it. As the Mandalorian approached his ship, the bay doors opened and he stopped at the end of the ramp. Taseri paused beside him and stared into the dark interior of his ship, a touch of excitement igniting in her chest. 

With determined steps, she ascended the ramp and entered the ship, blinking as the interior lights flickered on at her movement. The cargo hold was smaller than she expected, littered with crates and supplies. It was quite dusty, and smelled of oil. To her left was a wall of various controls, and the fuel chute that indicated it was full. To her right, a sorry excuse for a bench jutted from the wall. Ahead, she found the ladder that she assumed led to the cockpit, and a closet that had a makeshift bed. 

“Cozy,” she commented, not quite meaning to sound sarcastic but struggling to find anything better to say. Perhaps she should take note from the Mandalorian, who continued to stay silent as he slid past her and climbed into the cockpit. Tesara stood awkwardly. She quickly stowed her duffel bag beneath the benc hbefore deciding to join him above. The engine hummed to life as she scaled the first rung. Just as she began to pull herself onto the upper floor, the Razor Crest lifted into the sky, jostling her enough to bounce her head off a metal hatch. 

She groaned a stray curse and pulled herself up, rubbing a tender spot on her scalp and settling into the seat behind the co-pilot’s chair. She watched through the window as Nevarro grew smaller beneath her and in just moments they faced the long, dark expanse of space. 

“Going into hyperdrive. It’ll take a half a day to make it that far into the outer rim,” the Mandalorian informed her before shifting a lever forward and launching them into lightspeed. 

“Oh, ah, okay.” Tesara responded lamely, not expecting him to speak. He said nothing after that, simply stared forward at the flashing blue light waves as time ticked forward. She watched in amazement as the lights glimmered off of his helmet, sending brilliant strobes that lit the dark corners of the cockpit. 

An ache blossomed in her chest as she watched him, thinking back to the last time she’d seen a Mandalorian helmet. This silver mask looked smaller than the red one she remembered. Then again, in the memory of clutching that scarlet visor, her hands were much smaller. Those of a child. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Mandalorian,” Tesara mentioned offhandedly, not quite sure why she said anything. Some part of her wanted to know more about him, and was curious about his life after the Empire’s betrayal. She recalled the rumors about him, about his constant returns to Nevarro, and Tesara hoped it was for more than just the charismatic guild master. She had searched the planet lazily, inconspicuously, hoping to find some clue to the whereabouts of the remaining Mandalorians. She didn’t know what she’d do if she found something, but it would have been comforting to know the remaining warriors had found safety somewhere in the galaxy. In the end, she found nothing, no sign of the tribe, until this Mandalorian arrived. 

He said nothing, of course. When the silence grew intolerable for her, she’d throw out a stray comment only to be ignored. 

“This is only my second time on a ship, you know.”  
Nothing.   
“I’m pretty good with blasters though. And I can shoot just as well with my left as my right. Ambidextrous.”  
Silence.   
“See these axes? They return to my hand when I press this button. Well, they kind of fly straight at me, but I manage to catch them most of the time.”  
She saw him turn to regard her waist, and the fact that she only managed to grab his attention with weapon talk was not lost on her. Even so, he just observed for a moment before turning back forward. Something slowly began to dawn on Tesari. 

“Do you, uh, have any cool weapons?” She asked. It was a strange question, and she felt lame for asking, but she was testing a theory. At first she thought she was wrong, he was just being rudely silent, but then he responded by raising his left wrist and drawing her attention to a strange gadget on his vambrace. 

“Flamethrower,” he said, almost boastfully. Tesari grinned widely, not just at the Mandalorian’s equally lame response, but at the fact that he didn’t sound annoyed at all. Perhaps he wasn’t ignoring her, but simply had nothing to say. To be fair, her poor attempts to start a conversation left little room for reciprocation to someone who chose their words carefully. 

Excited to learn more about him, Tesari bombarded the Mandalorian with questions, mostly about his arsenal. At first he only responded curtly, but after a while his explanation of weapon physics grew more detailed and she listened with rapt attention. 

“No,” he answered after she asked if his fibercord whip could pull him towards targets rather than the other way around. “There’s actually no withdrawal mechanism at all. I choose how much cord is released, then cut the end. From that point it's up to me to reel them in. Or reel myself up, I guess.”

That was the most he’d said in the past hour, and it thrilled her to no end. No surprise that a Mandalorian would love to talk about weaponry, but he was surprisingly light in tone considering how standoffish he was on Nevarro. He seemed much more at ease here on the Razor Crest, hurtling through light speed. That was disappointing, in a way. If there truly was a Mandalorian tribe on Nevarro, he shouldn’t have been so keen to escape. 

“Say,” Tesari began, nervous to stride into personal territory, but too curious for her own good. “I have a question. About your helmet.”

He sighed. It sounded like static. “I don’t take it off. Ever. End of story.” He didn’t sound angry, just exasperated, like he’d heard the question a thousand times before. That didn’t really surprise her, considering she’d asked the question a thousand times before, to a different Mandalorian, in a different time. 

“Well obviously,” Tesari said, ignoring the sudden lump in her throat. “I was going to ask about polish, actually. Bolomian fat works best on Beskar, if I recall. Whatever you’re using is dulling the scale.”

He went absolutely rigid. Clearly angry. Most likely defensive. “My helmet is not a fashion accessory. Who cares if it’s shiny?”

Tesari threw her hands up surrender. Her intention was never to rile up the Mandalorian, but for some reason she’d hit a nerve. “Sorry!” She exclaimed, attempting to smooth things over. “I just know how important the helmets are to you guys. I thought you might like a tip, that’s all.”

He scoffed at her. “I don’t need advice from you.” You’re not a Mandalorian. She could practically hear what was unsaid. He was Mandalorian and she was an outsider. Mando’ade ra aruettise. The idea ignited a fire inside her that had long since burned out. The embers of anger and regret burst into an uncontrollable flame and she found herself struggling not to send words of hate at the Mandalorian in front of her. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, the shame that his words brought forth. Instead, she sought escape, flying out of the cockpit and past his personal quarters and sliding into the cargo hold. 

Tesari took out her axes and began flinging them at the nearby wall, summoning them a moment before impact to work on her catches without damaging the ship. She did this without thought, knowing that even if she messed up and cut herself, it would be a distraction from the word that pounded through her skull, in the voice of a man long dead. 

Arutti.

—

After about an hour of throwing and recalling her axes haphazardly, Tesari was exhausted. She’d trained that morning as well, back on Nevarro, and her body protested the extra exertion. By now she had compartmentalized her anger, forcing away emotions and focusing only on the feeling of the axe handle landing solidly in her palm. She refrained from trying anything new, knowing that it was more important to master the fundamentals in training so that the footwork could come out in combat. Repetition was key, and training was essential to keeping the mind focused and the body learned. That was one of the first lessons her father taught her, and it had served her well thus far. Her hand to hand combat skills, even after years of disuse, had come to her aid when it mattered most. It led to her presence here today, to her freedom. 

A flicker of doubt washed over Tesari. She had won her freedom. She had. Yet a shadow of fear still hovered over her, only growing darker as they grew closer to Apollo IV. Was it sane, to return to the place she’d lived the darkest years of her life? She had escaped, not only with her life but stolen riches. She could have gone anywhere in the galaxy, reinvested her wealth to create a good life, lived carefree. The memories would be just that, memories, painful but easily replaced by moments of bliss. 

Tesari heard movement behind her and she spun instantly, swinging her axe in a wide arc around her body. Silver Beskar flashed in her vision and her arm came to a dramatic stop. The Mandalorian stood much too close, his hand gripping her wrist tightly while the axe in her fingers hovered just inches from his neck. Tesari turned pale and hopped back, already beginning her sputtering apologies. 

“But really,” she finished, her face a little flushed. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. I could’ve taken your head off, you know.” Stupid.

The Mandalorian tilted his head to the side. “I very much doubt that. Sorry anyway.” His voice was pretty emotionless, lucky considering their earlier interaction. Tesari wondered if his apology was really for startling her, or for his earlier outburst. 

“I forgive you.” She said, and meant it either way. His arrival had all but eliminated the fogginess in her mind. Tesari knew her purpose. She knew why she had to come back to this forsaken place. The Mandalorian’s silver plated head was the only reminder she needed of what truly mattered in this galaxy. It was a strong symbol, perhaps the strongest of them all. 

“You’ve got good form,” the Mandalorian noted. She liked that he had moved on as well, allowing their earlier awkwardness to be forgotten. 

“Wanna try?” Tesari flipped the axe that was just aimed at his neck into the air, catching it by the blade between her fingers and holding the handle toward him. He grabbed it and tested its weight. 

“Hold out your throwing arm.” He took a moment to decide if he would, before holding it out to her. She removed the bracelet from her wrist and snapped it around his. She completely ignored how casual she was being, taking his gloved ring finger and pressing it down on the space where his thumb joined his palm. “Bend your finger like this and rotate your wrist about 30 degrees. That motion triggers the retrieval mechanic. I’d open your hand up as quickly as possible to start out. It’s not particularly fast, but there’s some acceleration.” 

He nodded in understanding and Tesari realized she’d never actually seen him in action before.   
“Hey, you’re not gonna chop a finger off, right? You know what you’re doing?”  
The jerk had the nerve to scoff at her. As she moved to the bench beside him, she kind of hoped he would get hurt. A tiny cut at least, like her first time. 

But of course, he was an expert. He spent a few minutes practicing the retrieval motion, essentially tossing it safely between his hands. When he felt more confident, he began tossing it upward at a weak angle, still practicing with retrieval, but using gravity to ease the acceleration. Only after an hour or more did he try throwing the axe, but when he did it flew far and true, zipping back perfectly into his awaiting hands just before it pierced the bay’s far hull. 

“How much?” He asked, finally turning toward her. 

Tesari snapped her agape jaw closed and shot him a glare. “They’re not for sale!”

He just shrugged and returned the weapon and bracelet. If he was disappointed, she couldn’t tell. 

“Actually, I have something else to give you. It was going to be a bargaining chip, if you refused to take my mission. Now I guess you can consider it a down payment.”

The Mandalorian tilted his head curiously. “I’ve got to check on the ship. Bring it upstairs, there’s better light anyway.” She didn’t get a chance to respond before he was already climbing the ladder. 

Tesari took a moment to gather her thoughts. Hanging out and watching the Mandalorian play with her axe was fun, but things were about to take a turn for the serious. He would have questions, and she should decide now whether she would respond with the truth. Though they’d only just met, Tesari couldn’t help but feel a kinship with him he could hardly reciprocate. She just wasn’t ready to share details about her past, especially with a Mandalorian. Vagaries, then. 

She removed the red Beskar pauldron from her duffel bag and held it to her chest and she ascended that ladder. At the top, the Mandalorian was fiddling with switches and paid her interest no mind. She sat in the backseat and waited, anxiety churning in her gut. After finishing his inspections, the Mandalorian finally sat back and swiveled his chair. Surprisingly, he was relaxed when he looked at her face. She could see his visor trail down and Tesari knew when she saw his back go stiff that he realized what she carried. 

Tesari offered it to him: a peace offering. A gift, really. And he took it as such, cradling the Beskar gently as he pulled it from her and into his lap. He examined it for a long while, turning it in his hands preciously. His hand caressed the outer side of the pauldron and he murmured something to himself. 

“Pardon?”

“Bolomian fat. You have cared for it well. Who?” The question was asked before, at the cantina, but that was in front of prying eyes. They both knew she would tell the truth now.

Tesara’ s eyes suddenly stung. She had to clear her throat before she could continue. The truth, but maybe not all of it. “His name was Adono.” 

“You knew him?” 

“Yes,” she responded simply. The Mandalorian continued to rub his thumb along the immaculate steel.

“I’m sorry.” No voice modulator could hide that sincerity. It moved Tesari in a way she couldn’t put to words.

“It-it won't fit you, but maybe you can find someone to work it into something better. That, and the rest of the armor. Mikels Maad should never have put his filthy hands on it. Adono would have wanted his suit returned to his people. I’ve looked, but you’re the only Mandalorian I managed to find.” There was both a question and an accusation rolled into the statement, but he responded to neither. In fact, he did not respond at all for a long while. 

Finally, the Mandalorian laid the pauldron in the copilot’s seat. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you before we exit hyperdrive.” It was only then that Tesari realized her head was bobbing toward her chest, and it was a long moment before she could remember her last coherent thought. She nodded and made for the cargo bay, hoping the bench below felt anything like her bed back on Nevarro. 

—-

It didn’t. When she woke, Tesari felt less rested than before her brief nap. The Mandalorian had paged her to come up over the comms and she was thankful she wouldn’t have to wrestle with shit sleep any longer.

“What’s the plan?” Tesara asked, moving forward to the copilot seat. She gingerly picked up the red pauldron that still lay there, clutching it in her lap as she stared at the lightspeed waves shooting past. The Mandalorian was fiddling with controls, indicating the descent from hyperdrive was near. 

“I go in, eliminate the target, and secure the area. You wait here until I radio, then quickly come retrieve the item and my Beskar.” The plan was delivered with certainty.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I can’t risk the target escaping with knowledge of the item or the armor’s location. We may need to interrogate him for more information.” Tesari bit her lip anxiously. 

“That wasn’t part of the briefing.”

“If I recall, I’m the client, and I do the briefing. I can’t risk failing this mission so you can play the lone warrior act. You need my intel.”

He tensed, prepared to argue, but the console flashed urgently at him and had no choice but to release his annoyance with an exasperated sigh. With a couple button taps and switch flips, they exited lightspeed, coming to a slow with a stomach churning groan. A grey moon hung the space ahead of them, tiny compared to the massive gas planet it circled. Even from this distance, Tesara could see the golden spire of Maad’s palace jutting from the moon’s north axis. The Mandalorian saw it too.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“Mikels Maad was an Imperial spy. They stationed him on Apollo IV to mine gatsbii, a weak but malleable metal that the Empire used for aesthetic purposes. His whole base is coated in the stuff. After the war, he took to slaving, starting with his workers and eventually working his way to the nearby planets.” She jutted her chin at a faraway body that the Mandalorian could vaguely tell was green. “That’s New Ghetti. As unnotable as it gets. Maad and his band of Imperial deserters snatch up girls to sell and boys to break from there.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”  
Tesara threw him a withering glare.

“He’ll have a dozen guards or so, Imperial deserters that found new lives with this asshole. Just enough to keep the young or elderly slaves in check. The rest will be in the mines, lording over the able bodied. He won't expect anyone to attack his compound. My item will be near or with the Beskar, which is probably on display, but if he gets a whiff we’re coming he’ll lock it up tight.” 

The Mandalorian stared at the moon. She had no idea what he was thinking. Tesari wondered if he was disappointed there would be no shootout. 

“Hmm.” Was the only response she received, and she was starting to get annoyed. The Razor Crest began its descent, pulling up on the moon many clicks away from Maad’s glittering beacon. The Mandalorian slid the ship into a graceful landing on an unremarkable stone outcropping. The engines powered down and the lack of mechanical hum made his silence unbearable. 

“Well?” Tesara huffed.

“Well, we’ve got about half a day's walk ahead of us. I recommend we get started.”   
He was away from his seat and exiting the cockpit before she could respond. Tesara clambered after him, following closely as he exited the ship and began the long trek across the gray moon. She’d placed the red Beskar in the pilot’s seat to await his return. 

“And the plan?” She insisted when she found a steady pace at the Mandalorian’s side. 

“We’ll see as it goes. If I can lockdown the area, it won't matter if he sees us coming. Most likely I’ll just shoot my way through.”

Tesara scoffed, then scowled when she realized he was serious. As if the uptight man would make a joke. Was he not listening?

“You better hope that works. And I expect some part of the plan involves protecting me as well, yeah? That was kind of the goal in hiring someone from a mythical warrior race.”

Only a slight tilt of his head indicated he was looking at her. The moon had a low gravitational pull and a thin atmosphere, enough to rouse a bit of a breeze. The Mandalorian’s cape billowed around him and the distant sun’s white light made his silver helmet almost glow. Tesara tried not to admit, even to herself, that he looked pretty cool.

“Figured you’d be able to handle yourself,” he said, surprisingly lightly. “Ambidextrous and all.”  
Hah, so he did have jokes.


End file.
